


Eleventh Hour

by TwilightKnight17



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: (it's like one paragraph), Confessions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Let Akira Be Sad About Things, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, the Obligatory Sad 2/2 fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24629950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwilightKnight17/pseuds/TwilightKnight17
Summary: In the end, when there's no time remaining, what do you have left to lose that isn't already lost?Akira has been hurt too many times already. He's not letting Goro go without making him understand exactly what he's asking for.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira
Comments: 31
Kudos: 287





	Eleventh Hour

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 6/9, everyone. I'm tired of nitpicking this to death. Of course this fic was going to happen eventually, even if everyone has done one by now. XD

Akira couldn’t do this again.

Whatever he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been this. Appeals, justifications, threats… He’d been prepared. He thought he knew what Maruki would try.

And somehow, the man had still managed to reach out, grab his heart in a ruthless fist, and squeeze. It was a choice that wasn’t a choice, the realization that Akira’s dream did exist in this reality Maruki had made. He had assumed that he didn’t have one, that he and Goro were the only ones awake at the start because they had refused to yield, and therefore their wishes had already shattered, stillborn.

But no. Maruki couldn’t warp a Wild Card without consent, but he could warp the world around them. Akira’s dearest wish had apparently been here all along, and now…

He hoped Maruki saw the rage behind his eyes when he threw him the calling card. Whatever the intention, this certainly _did_ feel like a hostage situation.

He was barely aware of Goro quietly asking Morgana to give them time alone. Morgana didn’t protest, and Goro opened the cafe door for him before coming back to the booth to stare at Akira.

“You _cannot_ shut down now,” he said sharply. “You’re not going to do this. I refuse to accept a reality concocted by someone else, living under their control for the rest of my days. We don't even know for certain that anything will happen to me, or if Maruki is just bluffing. Are you really so spineless that you’re going to crumple under the weight of such a small thing as a threat to my life?”

Akira stared at him, not sure how to even begin to respond to such a completely ridiculous statement. Did Goro not know? Did Goro not _understand?_

“Don’t oversimplify this,” he managed, trying to keep his voice steady. “Your life isn’t a… a small thing. And you seem pretty certain that you're not going to be here afterwards.”

“It _is_ simple,” Goro snapped. “It doesn't matter how sure I am or what the truth is. In comparison to a whole world trapped under that lunatic’s thumb, possibly having to give up my life is nothing. Do you think I want his mercy? Do you think I want your pity? I want him _stopped_ , and your hesitation is a betrayal of my wishes.”

Leftover anger at Maruki boiled up again, this time directed at the boy who he was now realizing was completely oblivious. Why were Goro’s wishes the only ones that mattered? “You… You just…” he spluttered, trying to put the words together, and Goro folded his arms and tapped his foot.

“What? I think I’ve made myself very clear.”

“It’s not _pity_ , you dumbass!” Akira shouted. “You really can’t imagine _any_ other reason that I wouldn’t want you to die? For fuck’s sake, Goro!” He saw the other boy start to open his mouth and immediately cut him off. “I’m not going to falter. I’m going to fight that asshole. But I am not letting this end with you not understanding that your life is worth something. Whether you get it or not, you _matter_ to me!”

Goro stared down at the floor, his expression unreadable behind his fringe. “...you may think that my life means something, but a life created and curated by someone else is worth nothing. We have to win, no matter what.”

He moved towards the door, and Akira turned away. He couldn’t watch Goro leave, not now. The bells over Leblanc’s door chimed, and after a moment, he heard the click of the door closing again. Only then did he let himself break, crushing his hands over his mouth in an attempt to muffle a sob. He sank to the floor, tucking himself under the bar counter and pulling his knees to his chest. Tears flooded down his face, and he shook, trembling under the weight of all the emotion he couldn’t bottle up anymore.

He didn’t hear the footsteps until a warm presence settled beside him, and an arm wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him close. It took him a moment to shake off his shock, and then he looked up with a pitiful sniffle. “G-Goro? You didn’t leave…?”

“The door wasn’t locked. I checked that Maruki was actually gone, and threw the bolt. No one else will disturb us now,” Goro said, and sighed heavily. “I couldn’t exactly leave you when you’re like this.” He shifted enough to tuck Akira’s head beneath his chin. “Is this really how you feel? All of this pain...over me?”

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Akira choked out. He nuzzled into Goro’s scarf, still crying, and for once, Goro didn’t respond. He just held him, letting Akira match his breaths and calm down. It took Akira a while to notice that his left hand was bare. Only when it came up to stroke gently along his jaw did he realize it was warm skin, not soft leather. Had it been like that this whole time? He didn’t say anything, but he thought of the single glove tucked away beneath his pillow, and it was Goro who eventually nudged him to move.

“Come. Let’s cut the lights off and go upstairs. We don’t need any late-night passers-by peering in the door and questioning what’s wrong.”

Akira nodded, using the bar to help drag himself to his feet. He shuffled up the stairs like a man walking to his execution, wondering why it was him feeling like that when Goro’s footfalls sounded no different than usual. How could he be so strong, when Akira felt like he was about to fly to pieces?

His gaze caught on his shelves, dragging over Featherman figures and fake ramen bowls, plastic swan boats and oversized shogi pieces. There were people out there who needed him. He’d made this choice already; it should have been easy. But not with these stakes. He’d made a choice to refuse what he thought was a revival. Now he was making a choice that would condemn someone to death. The person that he...

“I just… Couldn’t this be good enough…?” he said before he could stop himself. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Goro, already knowing the disappointment he would see in wine-red eyes.

Soft fingertips, still uncharacteristically bare, pressed gently to his lips. Prior, heated anger had cooled to something warm and strangely gentle. “You’re strong enough for this. Don’t hesitate now. We’ll make it through tomorrow, and when I come back to you, it will be of my own free will. Not as bait offered by a madman. I promise.”

Akira shuddered. “I’m sorry…” He swallowed hard as Goro carefully reached up to undo his coat and scarf and set them aside, before he moved to stand in front of Akira, close enough to feel his breath on his lips.

“Don’t.” It was whispered against the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t realize what I was asking of you. Can you blame me? Your regard is certainly not something I deserve, or ever expected. And I’m the one who should be sorry, for hurting you again, but I told you. I would rather die than live as someone else’s pawn, hostage, or bargaining chip.”

“I know…” Akira whispered, reaching up to wrap his arms around Goro’s neck and lean their heads together. If there was one thing he couldn’t handle, it was being the cause of Goro’s suffering. Goro had suffered enough. “That’s why I’ll fight. But...stay with me until then. Please. I don’t know how long it’ll be until I see you again.”

He could feel a smile against his cheek. “Relax. We have all night. I’m not going anywhere.”

Lips covered his, soothing and present. He pressed into the kiss, further, further, wanting to absorb the feeling, imprint the memory. Just in case. This moment, at least, was warm skin and careful touch and blessed, wonderful reality. For just a little longer.

Goro’s arms slipped around his waist, and by the time Akira pulled away to breathe, he was swaying them gently back and forth. Akira leaned into it, resting his head on Goro’s shoulder, and finally mumbled softly, “A last dance?”

“Must you ruin the moment?” Goro replied, sounding slightly exasperated. “It won’t be the last, but you have very low standards for dancing if you consider this to count. We’re barely moving.”

“Everything counts right now,” Akira murmured.

“Sentimental idiot,” Goro said, but he didn’t let go. Instead, the swaying became more deliberate, and they ended up doing a slow, shuffling waltz around the attic. 

“When this is over, we need to take dance lessons,” Akira teased, after stepping on Goro’s foot for the third time. “Finally, something we’re both bad at.”

That got an actual, unfiltered snort of amusement out of Goro, and it made Akira grin victoriously. Goro didn’t respond, just reached up to sink a hand into his hair and press their mouths together again so he could kiss the smile from his lips. Their dance forgotten, Akira purred when Goro’s other hand ventured under his shirt, caressing tentatively against the small of his back as if he was unsure of going too far. So Akira took the lead, pressing their bodies together and gradually coaxing Goro towards the bed.

It was only after Akira had fallen back and pulled Goro down on top of him that Goro finally pulled away. “You… What do you want, Akira?” His gaze was like a physical weight. “You don’t have to pretend to be okay for me. Nothing has to go any further.”

“I…” Akira mumbled. “I don’t want to waste any more of my time with you being upset. I’m fine, I promise.” 

“I need to hear you say what you want, then. I don’t want to misinterpret again,” Goro said, threading his fingers into Akira’s hair.

Akira could feel his cheeks burning at being asked directly, but he didn’t break eye contact. “Anything,” he said honestly. “Everything. As long as it’s you… I want all of it.”

“We don’t have time for everything.” But Goro was smirking now, dipping his head to press a lingering kiss to Akira’s jaw. “We need to be at our best for tomorrow, and that means sleeping eventually. So I suppose I get to choose.”

Tilting his head to encourage Goro to keep going along his neck, Akira shivered. “We can sleep in,” he said softly. “Do you really think I’m going to school on the eve of the apocalypse?”

“True. What’s the use in pretending things are normal, if everything is going to end either way?” Goro nipped at his neck, then soothed the sting with his tongue. “I suppose we’ll see how long you can last, then.”

Akira laughed, shirt askew enough to reveal most of his stomach. “Worry about yourself, honey. I’m pretty determined when I want something.”

“Overconfident brat.”

Contrary to Goro’s bloodlust in the metaverse and his acerbic wit in the real world, he was more gentle than Akira was expecting. How much of that was actual softness and how much was a need to drag things out to make Akira beg was questionable, but Akira wasn’t complaining. Fast, slow, gentle, forceful, all of it was fine if it was Goro. Akira ate up every touch, every sound.

Goro was beautiful, nestled between Akira’s legs. He was wicked, teasing Akira open, starting a rhythm that shook the crates. He was vulnerable, whimpering as Akira kissed down his thighs. He was unguarded, rocking down against Akira’s hips.

And still it wasn’t enough. Akira wanted time to stop, just so he could have more chances to prove to Goro that regardless of what anyone else thought, he was _wanted_ , body and heart and soul, and that he would be missed, no matter how long or short the time was before they would see each other again.

After enough rounds that Akira lost count, much to Goro’s great amusement, he was forced to concede that he was too tired to stay up any longer. Rather than point out that Goro was just as tired, Akira settled heavily beside him, threw an arm over him, and rubbed his cheek against his bare chest like a content cat, well-aware of the other boy looking down at him with a sharp gaze muted by tenderness. A knife with a guarded edge, gentle to one person and one person only.

“You just had to make this harder,” Goro muttered, but there was no anger left, just exasperated fondness. “Why do you think that I wouldn’t spend time with you? I didn’t want to grow any more attached than I already was. And I didn’t want you getting attached either, because I knew it would just hurt you worse.”

“It was too late way before now,” Akira replied, tracing shapes against his sternum. “I’ve been attached since before I thought you died the first time.”

Goro hummed thoughtfully. “When wouldn’t have been too late?” he asked, stroking Akira’s hair with the air of someone who had given up and was finally indulging.

A purr rumbled in Akira’s throat. “Well… I think it was the jazz bar,” he admitted. “You shared something you really liked with me. And you were genuinely having a good time. I remember watching you talk about the singer that night and just...knowing. And when you admitted you’d never taken anyone else there...”

“I hadn’t,” Goro said. “I lied about so many things, but that night wasn’t a lie. I wouldn’t have taken you there if you weren’t important to me in some way.”

Akira pulled himself closer, both arms tight around Goro beneath the blankets. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said, his voice heavy with sleep.

“...I am, too,” Goro replied. “Sleep. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

“Mhm…” And as Akira dozed off, he knew that this, at least, was completely real.

**Author's Note:**

> Please picture me sitting helplessly in the middle of the Persona fandom with a sign that says "2/2/2017 and 12/31/2009 are the same, and my OTPs are the same, actually. Help."
> 
> Now that I think about it, I didn't actually write the Sad December 2009 Fic. Probably because I read the perfect one and knew I couldn't top it. But the spirit was there. Atlus just likes to hand me characters I like and then hurt them, I guess. XD But good lord, can we please let Akira be sad about things? The whole game is one big traumatizing mess. He needs to Yell without people expecting him to just suck it up and deal with it.


End file.
